


5:1

by khalasaar



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, cursing, gmw, nsfw sorta kinda??? only a lil, oooh I'm rilaya trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khalasaar/pseuds/khalasaar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the ratio of times maya didn't say anything to the number of times she did</p><p>(aka an angsty, full of pining, maya-centric oneshot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	5:1

#### I.

Riley first grabs for her hand on a Tuesday.

Who remembers that kind of shit? Honestly? 

Lovesick puppies - heartbroken, overeager romantics - girls not like her, the ones with butterflies clouding in their stomachs, with bright eyes, with hearts too big for their bodies. 

Everything Maya is not. And yet, she remembers this moment so clearly that she can almost see herself as one of them. 

Not broken anymore. 

Golden, instead, the way Riley always is naturally. As if something invisible - or, okay, her best friend - has sealed up all her hairline cracks.

She hates herself for thinking that.

But. She knows that this is an irrefutable truth. RileyandMaya. They’re made for each other. They love each other.

(Maya loves her so much it hurts.)

It’s a Tuesday, and Riley is holding her hand. They must’ve held hands before. All best friends do. She remembers thinking this fervently: _it’s-normal it’snormal-it’snormal._

She can feel her heart in every part of her body - thundering, fervent, relentless - the heat that flushes over her skin, the way her breaths come in those shallow gasps, squeezing at her lungs. It’s normal. It must be. 

Okay, so it’s not. It’s not normal.

They must have held hands before, but Maya can’t remember it feeling anything like this. They’re on the L train. It’s dark and they’re tired and the car is mostly empty, the tunnels rushing away beside them, the floor thrumming with movement, a quiet peace to the whole thing. They’re sitting next to each other while the world moves on without them; Riley has her head on Maya’s shoulder, even through the jostling of the stops-and-starts. Her hair is curled today. Her eyelashes are dropping butterfly kisses on Maya’s shoulder.

Casually, she reaches out and interlaces their fingers, so that the nails go black-purple-black-purple. Leaves their hands there, resting, on Maya’s thigh.

_Oh my God,_ Maya thinks. _Is this cardiac arrest?_

No, it’s not. It’s the two of them, perfect together, as always. The train roaring, wheels flaring on the track, their heartbeats slipping into sync. It’s Maya’s nerves going off like fireworks just under her skin. It’s her heart skipping a beat and settling back into place, because Riley always calms her down.

It’s a Tuesday, and Maya is secret-smiling at the floor. 

They’re perfect.

#### II.

Maya is fourteen, it’s a Friday, and she has a dream.

Not the Martin-Luther-King-Jr. kind. The way more embarrassing kind - the one that makes you wake up sweating, and hot, and full of shame. Maya is halfway through it and thinking, hazily: _this is a sex dream._

When she thinks it, sleeping, it doesn’t seem so bad.

They’re on Riley’s bed. The world is smoky and unclear outside the bay window, but in here everything is sharp, and Maya can feel even the slightest movements. There’s a breeze coming in. There’s an overhead light on. There’s Riley, underneath her.

Wait. Riley is here?

Yes. Maya is straddling her best friend. She’s sitting on top of Riley’s hips, pinning her arms to the bed - watching the gleam in Riley’s dark eyes, one bright and hungry and so far unheard of. Her hair is fanning out across the pillows, and she’s twisting under Maya’s grip, her chest heaving, a fluorescent smile on her lips, and Maya thinks holy shit, this is a sex dream.

They’re not having sex. But there’s a warmth in her stomach that says they’re leading up to it. There’s a tingle in her fingertips and a desperation in her chest that says it’s been long enough. That Riley should be hers already.

Maya’s self control is flooding out through her feet.

All these years she’s been in love with Riley, she’s been able to keep it inside. She’s good at hiding. At being, you know, less obvious.

If she really reacted to every touch, every brush of the hands, every hug and smile, the way she wanted to - well, the jig would’ve been up months and months ago.

But she has boundaries. She has a strategy. She’s been doing such a good job that, sometimes, even she can forget what lives inside her chest.

Except, right now, Maya is breaking every rule she’s ever made. She’s leaning down, watching the curtains of her own blonde hair fall over Riley’s face, her eyes locked on Riley’s lips. Hands pinned on both sides of her head. The edges of their bodies perfectly lined up.

It’s never happened, but Maya thinks she would know this anywhere.

They’re kissing. She realizes this with a jolt to the brain. Her lips graze Riley’s, soft and warm, her thoughts melting away as they kiss and kiss and Maya tastes green jolly ranchers when Riley’s mouth opens, swallowing her laugh, teeth grazing her bottom lip. Her hands are fisted in Maya’s shirt. Maya is trying not to die.

It’s so real, all of it, that she can feel tears prickling in her eyes. Riley’s skin is hot under her fingertips and she can count every freckle on her cheeks, and she can feel Riley’s hair sifting between her fingers, tugging until Riley slips a thigh between her legs and Maya has to choke back a moan because damn, that would be so embarrassing. 

Even though she wants to. She really wants to. To slide a hand up Riley’s shirt, or to dip fingers into her waistband, to leave a hickey or five on the rise of her collarbone: bright purple and black, impressionist style. 

God, she loves those paintings. 

God, she loves Riley. The world is falling away, and Maya is so happy that everything is blurry, the way it is after kisses in movies or celebration-smoking at three in the morning. They’re kissing. They’re together, and Maya’s heart is singing in her chest: she has 95 billion neurons in this body, and every single one is filling her body with a happy fervor.

(Until she wakes up.)

#### III.

Right after that fiasco, she wakes up, dry heaves, and asks the internet what the fuck is going on. One girl responds by saying it’s a normal part of exploring your sexuality, finishing it off with a sickly-sweet smiley face. The only other answer says: _girl, you got a situation._

#### IV.

Maya often wonders if Riley is really, truly, completely stupid.

In a nice way, of course. They’re best friends. She loves Riley. 

But Holy Christ, is the girl oblivious. 

The hand holding, the nicknames, the heartfelt talks, the bay window, the looking-at-each-other-like-the-sun. It’s like getting her heart waterboarded.

It’s happening right now. They’re at a fair outside the city, and Maya is so nervous that she feels like she’s about to explode: it’s dark and the stars are bright, and Riley is holding her hand, and the fucking ferris wheel is looming above them.

“I hate you,” Maya says, squeezing Riley’s hand so hard she yelps. “Oh my God, don’t make me do it.”

“Come on, loser.” Riley pops a hip and gives her the Look, eyebrows raised, one side of her mouth curled in a smirk. She reaches out and loops an arm around Maya’s shoulder, presses their cheeks together so she can Riley smiling widely, giggling in excitement. “It’s just a dumb wheel.”

“I am literally going to die.” Maya wolfs down a bite of her cotton candy, trying not to think about it. But the dumb wheel - as Riley so eloquently put it - just won’t disappear. It’s lined with tiny white lights, glittering against the blackened sky, and it’s high high high, so huge it makes Maya feel dizzy even from here. People are giggle-screaming from the top, their voices getting lost  
halfway down, and Maya curls her hands into fists at her sides. The sugar sitting in her stomach making her feel nauseous; the breeze raises goosebumps on her skin. “I’m not going on.”

“Maya, we’re already at the front.” Riley turns around and waves a hand at the crowd behind them dramatically. Then she sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, making those puppy eyes that Maya wants to slap right off her face. “Please.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Maya growls.

The attendant waves his hand furiously, and Riley throws her forward into a car that swings wildly when they step in. Maya steps in meekly and the floor shudders. “There’s no roof. What the hell, Riles?”

“Shhh.” Riley laughs, plunks into her seat. The metal shivers, and Maya can feel it rock when the wheel starts up again - out of habit she snaps out and grabs Riley’s arm, squeezing until her heart settles back into its usual rhythm. “Jesus Christ,” she breathes, the words exploding in her lungs. The world rushes away beneath them. “Jesus Christ.”

“I know.” Riley’s fingers are tap-dancing across her thigh. She has this look on her face, like she just discovered an entire world. 

(Maya would die to see that smile on her face every day.)

At the top, they stop and shudder for a few long seconds. The fair is glittering with lights and brightly-colored tents that stretch onward and onward, punctuated by tiny, pin-sized people laughing and rollercoasters that keep looping over themselves. The sky is silky black, but there are stars out here, and planets too, all the ones that you can’t see in the city. Maya can feel wind ruffling her hair. It’s beautiful.

And Riley is there, in front of all of it. That bright, huge, dorky smile lighting up her whole face, backlit by the stars and fairy lights, sun pouring out of every cell. Her hand is warm on Maya’s leg, where her skirt has ridden up accidentally. Maya can feel her heart breaking open in her chest ever-so-slightly, thundering in her throat, and when their eyes connect and Riley smiles at her, poised against the sky like someone painted her into the astral realm - Maya says to herself, _I am never going to get over this girl._

That love, it’s a tidal wave. She smiles back.

#### V.

It’s a Thursday, and Maya wants to die. 

This is not a new development. The dying thing, it runs in her family. The fight with her mom and devouring of her last stashed joint - that didn’t help. But Maya hauls herself out of bed, broken and weary-eyed, to go to school anyway. Riley will be there. RileyRileyRiley. Maya is almost sick of how much she loves her.

She shows up early, somehow. Flies down the steps to the subway station, tells Riley they’ll have to meet at school, takes the train and goes up and down flights of stairs until she somehow finds herself in the hallway at school. With the back of her hands, she rubs the sleep out of her eyes. When she opens them again, her heart drops.

It’s not RileyandMaya anymore. It’s RileyandLucas. And she wants to cry.

The two of them are standing by Riley’s locker as she slides textbooks into her backpack, only taking her eyes from Lucas for a few fleeting seconds, and the smile leaving her face for exactly zero; he’s leaning against the wall in that annoyingly handsome way he does, sticking out his tongue at her, saying something that makes her laugh so hard she almost brains herself on the locker door. His hand snaps out to help her straighten up, and she twirls around toward him, what seems like an involuntary movement, until they’re inches apart, just staring at each other in a way that makes Maya want to puke all over them. 

His hands are too big, his eyes are too pretty, his face too square. He’s wrong for her. He’s been ruining their lives since that first day on the train, since Maya looked at him and decided he wasn’t a threat, shoved them together knowing that Riley would always come back to her.

Except she hasn’t.

Except she totally screwed them over. And she knows this. And it hurts.

She unclenches her fists, watching the places where her nails have dug crescent-moon marks into her palm. 

It’s crazy, this whole thing of being human. That her whole word is getting unraveled while theirs is just starting.

She can feel the words on her tongue. The urge to run up there, to rip them apart at the seams, to finally be able to fix something - that urge has been living under her skin for months. 

It’s threatening to burst. She can see the whole thing in her head. The tears, the sad smiles, and then the happy ones when Riley says _I know, peaches. I know. Me too._

Of course, this is not what happens.

What happens is nothing.

Maya is staring at them, her heart writhing with hurt, and she does nothing. Watches as they hug, and Riley squeals, and the two of them walk away, round the corner, with the last part to disappear their interlocked hands. 

Riley’s laugh drifts back and slaps her in the face.

How many times has she encouraged the two of them when she wanted to do the opposite? Lied to save face? Pretended it didn’t matter when it always meant the most?

She feels like she just came straight out of a rom-com.

Her vision is swimming with tears, and her brain is going around in that endless loop of _why can’t I talk? why did this happen?_

She squeezes her eyes shut, and by the time she finds their group again - Lucas’ hands on Riley’s waist, her staring up at him, the whole world tilt-a-whirling around the two of them - she has very carefully put the smile back on her face.

#### I.

They’re in Riley’s bed again, on a Saturday night. It’s dark outside and there’s a breeze blowing in, like from Maya’s dream, only this is much tamer: the two of them lying next to each other watching a shitty movie, limbs entangled, Maya scrolling on her phone, Riley prattling on about Lucas. About how nice he is. How great he looks. What a gentlemen he acts like on all of their dates. How, when they kiss, Riley wants to explode. How she’s so glad Maya helped her out with all this. How much they love each other.

Riley sings this, smiling that ditsy, in-love smile at the ceiling, and Maya is liking pictures on Instagram, when, without thinking, she says: “Riley, he doesn’t love you like I love you.”

Riley freezes. Maya can feel it in all the places where their bodies overlap. Every muscle winding up, her breath stopping, heart quickening in her wrists, the kind of silent-still-waiting that only hunted animals use.

Maya should be freaking out. She knows. A normal human being would be in the middle of a heart attack.

But she has been waiting for this so long, the reality of it now seems… surreal.

They both know it’s true. And she came out with it in a way that can’t be taken back. 

All the anxiety has flooded out of her. With a confidence so pure it puts a smile on her face, Maya turns to look at the shock on Riley’s face, meets her eyes steadily, and repeats without hesitation: “He doesn’t love you like I love you.”

“Maya,” Riley starts, an incredulous smile on her face.

“No. Listen to me.” Maya rolls over and sits up on her elbows. The urgency of it comes to her suddenly - a rush of blood to her cheeks, her pulse racing, a fever that starts to break out across her forehead. She drags herself forward until their faces are an inch apart, until there’s no way to get out of it, for Riley not to say yes. Her thoughts are spinning, but what comes out of her mouth has been living inside for so long that she doesn’t need to stop and think before she starts to talk.

“Riles,” she says softly, the name thrumming in her chest. “I love you.”

Nothing has ever felt so right.

“Not like how we always said,” she continues, trying not to trip over all the syllables. “As best friends. I mean - yes, that too. Always that. But I’m in love with you too.” A smile breaks out over her face. “Always that too, Riles. Your face, your smile, your whole weird, goofy, annoyingly wonderful personality. I’m in love with you. I have been for as long as I can remember. Seeing you with Lucas - look, I don’t hate him. I never have. He’s a nice guy. I’m only jealous.” Her inhale is shaky, sends a ripple into her lungs. “I’d kill to be with you like that. I mean, I’d kill for you anyway. But I also want you to be happy. More than anything, you know that.”

Tears have formed in her eyes, but Maya refuses to let them fall, doesn’t look away from Riley’s stunned, always-beautiful face. Very quietly, she whispers: “I love you better than he does.” 

A moment of terrible, terrible silence comes. Then:

“I know, peaches.”

“What?”

“I know.” Riley is nodding furiously, squeezing Maya’s hand, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I know you do. Thank you for that. Maya, you know I love you. But I- but, it’s just- I mean, Lucas-“

Maya moves forward so quick, she’s not even sure what she’s doing until she has Riley pinned down, hovering over her just like in that godforsaken dream. The whole thing is starting to feel like a cough-medicine-overdose induced hallucination.

She exhales, watching the way her breath makes Riley’s hair flutter around her face.

“If you love me,” she presses, voice so low it almost doesn’t come out, “why does he matter?”

Riley’s eyes narrow. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“I’m serious.” Maya sits back. “Why?”

“He’s still a human being.”

Anger flares behind Maya’s eyes. “You’re playing with me.”

“I’m not!” Riley’s voice rises an octave and she throws Maya off her, struggling to sit up straight. “Maya, come on. I need time to-“

“We’ve had twelve years,” Maya snaps. Then Riley is crying into her hands, really crying, and the guilt rushes in all at once. “Oh God, Riles, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m happy,” Riley chokes out between sobs. “That you finally said something. Because I think I feel the same way. But I like Lucas too. And you can’t just tell me and expect me to be okay with this in ten seconds.” “I know.” Maya’s heart is aching, but what did she expect?

She thinks about love again. How it’s not a one time thing, but the decisions you make for someone, over and over again, even if they hurt. How important it is. How much she’s suffered to gain it. 

She loves Riley better than Lucas does. Which is why she goes in for a hug instead of a kiss, holds her best friend and strokes her hair until she stops crying, promising that they have all the time in the world, singing praise until Riley falls asleep.

She mutters an “I love you” into Riley’s hair.

Soulmates always have time.

Girls who love each other this much have the world in their hands.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN: if y'all want me to write something specific send me a message @ philtaatos.tumblr.com with requests/prompts/whatever!! I'd totally love it


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